


Little Bird

by IAmStarby



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Love, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:43:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 19,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmStarby/pseuds/IAmStarby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This follows the story of my Lavellan, and begins before she is sent off to the Conclave.  It will be more centered around restoring the elvhen later on in the story.  There will be lots of relationship building between her and her comrades, and eventually there will be Lavellan and Solas pairing.  I hope to mix up the light hearted and dramatic, so you get the best of both worlds.  There are also a few original characters sprinkled in the story!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I made up some elvish, hopefully there weren't actual words for what I made up! 
> 
> Da'nen-Little bird  
> Da'fen-Little wolf  
> Oso'van-Strong bear

Celaena Lavellan was perched precariously on a tree, observing her clan. She preferred to watch from afar rather than be thrust into the middle of things. Remote as the Dalish were, she enjoyed being one more step removed. In essence, she liked to spy.

“Celaena!” called Luca. It was time to go. She let him look around for a moment, waiting him to position himself just right. Just a little bit closer. . . perfect. She leapt from her position in the tree, landing right in front of her older brother. 

“Fenedhis Da'nen!” he said. A grin spread across her face. Sneaking up on Luca was just one of her many hobbies. “You should stop your trickery, or else you will tempt Fen'Harel.” His parental concern was all but lost on her. He was only three years older after all, she wasn't his to guide. 

“Let him come then,” she said with a wink, adding an embellishing smack to her own buttocks before bounding away from him on long legs. She laughed as she wove through disapproving members of her clan. Teasing Luca and making him angry? Another hobby she had perfected. She turned back to see if he was gaining on her, causing her to nearly crash into Keeper Lathona. 

Celaena quickly composed herself, her smile wiped off her faced and replaced with a mask of reverence. Luca came to a skidding stop beside her, his breathing labored from either exertion or anger. She could never really tell. 

“If the both of you do not hurry, you will miss the Conclave all together.” The Keeper gently chastised. She had this innate ability to stare right into Celaena's eyes, despite the milk white film indicating her blindness. She was perhaps the only person that could get her to behave. 

“We will leave at once, Keeper.” Celaena answered. 

“Prove to the clan that you two deserve this task. I have no doubt you do, but some of the others believe I choose favorites.” 

“We will, Keeper Lathona,” Luca replied, his face displaying his determination at his new found duty. 

Celaena could not believe that the people of the clan thought Keeper Lathona would ever pick her favorites. It is true that she took her and her two siblings in when her parents were killed, but she was the best one for the task. She had never bore children, and their little sister Aridhel had shown signs of being a mage at an incredibly young age. She needed another mage to help guide her. Now at only ten, Aridhel had become first to the Keeper, but that was simply because she was qualified. 

Luca and Celaena had been chosen for going to gather information at the Conclave for Luca's strength and protectiveness, and Celaena's uncanny ability to remain unseen. 

“We will say our goodbyes to Aridhel, and take our leave.” Luca said politely. 

“Of course. I hope to see the both of you again before the end of two moon cycles.” 

“And us, too.” Luca replied. 

Celaena embraced the old woman, even though it would be considered inappropriate. It felt necessary. The Keeper hugged the heedless little bird back. 

Luca and Celaena left camp, finding Aridhel in the outskirts. Celaena supposed that she had been waiting for them. She was yelling in frustration, her little staff pointed at a juniper berry bush. Fire emitted from the end of the staff, charring the bush in front of her. The light of the flames reflected off of her little golden head.

Luca scooped her up and spun her around. 

“Da'fen! What did the bush do to offend you so?” 

Aridhel stuck out her hand in response. Her young flesh had been pricked by a thorn. 

“If you smote every bush that pricked you, we would not have many berries would we?” Luca teased. 

“It started it!” she protested. 

Celaena laughed at her little sister's ferocity. Her nickname suited her perfectly. Their parents gave them each a nickname, using them as terms of endearment. When they were killed, her and her siblings had taken to calling each other them. It wasn't much, but it was a little piece of their parents still living.

“We must leave, Da'fen.” Celaena said, while smoothing down her hair. 

“Can I please come?” 

“You have to stay here and protect the clan!” Celaena responded. It was hard to say no to those pouting eyes. 

“I don't want to.” 

“It is your duty, just as it is ours to go to the Conclave.” Luca responded. She sighed, but accepted it. Aridhel placed a quick kiss on Luca's cheek, and then did the same to Celaena. 

“Dareth shiral, Da'fen.” Celaena said. 

They left their little sister behind and headed away from familiarity and towards duty. Celaena was sad to leave her people, but that emotion was overridden by excitement of seeing areas of Thedas she had only dreamed about. Their walk from their clan began as calm and determined. Celaena could hardly stand the seriousness any longer. 

“Race you to the end of the road?” she asked hopefully. Luca didn't look at her, he clenched his jaw indicating disapproval. He was betrayed by the slight grin he could not keep off his face. He began a full out sprint down the road. She let him get a couple seconds headstart, Oso'van was strong, but she was fast. Her face broke into a joyous smile as she pumped her legs. She ran and ran until she could almost pretend she was flying.


	2. The Conclave

Luca and Celaena were nearing Haven, each step laced with youthful exuberance. They had been playing childish games all through their long trek in order to keep up spirits and ward off boredom. Interrupting a game of What Animal Am I Thinking Of, they came across an apostate elf. He was using his staff as a walking stick to avoid suspicion.

“That flat ear isn't fooling anyone. 'Oh, look at me! This is a walking stick, not a staff!'” Celaena mocked, snickering at her own joke. 

“If he hears you he may smack you with his 'walking stick,'” Luca falsely warned with a laugh. 

“He could try, but I would send him to Fen'Harel before he lifted it from the ground,” she said proudly. She looked at Luca with a new idea, mischief glimmering in her golden-green eyes. “I bet you that I could steal his necklace. It must have some secret powers or something intriguing like that.” 

Luca pondered this for a moment, but she already knew he would accept. He never backed down from a bet. “Alright. If you get it, then you get the last bit of wine. If you fail, I do.” 

“Deal.” Celaena said, thrusting her hand out. They shook on it, and she got to business. She drifted off into the trees, trailing him carefully. She was the shadow, and he was her master. To be constantly nearby, but never noticed. 

She made her move. She sprung from her concealed position in the foliage, running right for the apostate as if she was running from Fen'Harel himself. 

He raised his head to look at this oncoming stampede of one. She pretended to trip and fall right in front of him, she scrambled to keep herself upright and wrapped her hands around his neck 'catch' herself. His reflexes were quick, and he grabbed her by the waist to keep her upright. Her nimble fingers were already working to untie the chord around his neck as this all was happening. He let go of her with one hand, reaching up and grabbing her wrist with thin, long fingers. His eyes latched on to hers, making her freeze up. Without a word, he let go of her. She crashed to the ground with a dull thud. 

That stupid, smug apostate stepped over her and continued on his way without a word. To make it worse, Luca was standing there doubled over in laughter like an idiot. 

“You couldn't have done better!” she yelled at Luca, getting up and brushing the dirt off of her. Hopefully not everyone in Haven will be like that flat-ear. She did not take humiliation well. 

They continued on towards the Conclave, her earlier embarrassment all but forgotten at the excitement. Haven was quaint and beautiful, its only fault being that it was crawling with shemlen. Mages and templars were gathered, the meeting was about to begin. Even while being completely foreign to these lands, Celaena could feel the palpable tension in the air.

“It seems we have made it just in time.” Luca commented. 

“Just as I planned,” Celaena said in hopes to rile up Luca. It worked, he shot her a disapproving look. She had been begging for Luca to stop the entire trip. She wanted to explore, but he had kept them on track. Good thing, too, or else they would have been late. 

They split up and surveyed the area, each of them devising ideas on how to best blend in to their environment. Celaena got many disgusted looks from the shemlen, but she didn't mind too much. She felt the same about them as they did her. They met back up outside of Haven in a little cave, which they had already decided would be their base. 

“We are going to have to get guard uniforms.” Luca said, running a hand through his raven colored hair. 

“You mean like these?” Celaena grinned, pulling the guard uniforms out of her satchel.

“Good job Da'nen! I will not ask how you came upon these, I am sure I would not like the answer.” 

“Yes, it is better that you didn't.” Celaena laughed. 

The both of them dressed quickly, readying for their oncoming task. Celaena was thankful for the gaurd's helmet, it was hard to hide with pointed ears and vallaslin cleary marking her as the Dalish that she was. 

The meeting was beginning, and it was fairly easy to slip in with the other guards. The ease of it put her on edge. The possibilities of other unwanted guests, namely assassins, crossed her mind. She did not care much for shemlen, but she did not want this inane war to continue. It could eventually effect her if the purging of mages continued within Dalish clans. She decided she should watch the Divine, just in case someone decided to pull something foolish. Knowing humans, they would. 

Celaena and Luca were positioned against the wall while a gathering of mages and templars listened to the Divine talk, but soon others piped in and the conversation turned heated. After a few hours, it was apparent they were getting nowhere. The same arguments were being used over and over by the opposing sides. After an eternity of ceaseless bantering, Divine Justinia called off the meeting for the night until they could reconvene in the morning. The only information that the two Dalish elves had gotten from their spying was what they already knew: That mages and templars hated each other. 

The people trickled out, and soon only the guards were left. They, too, begin to leave. Divine Justinia had stayed, most likely to pray to the shemlen's false god. Celaena and Luca left with the others. While the other guards returned home, they stayed nearby. 

“That was insufferable.” Celaena complained. 

“I'm surprised they aren't all dead by now.” Luca agreed. 

Their complaining was interrupted by a woman's scream coming from inside. Divine Justinia. Celaena barged back into the room, Luca in tow. She was being held in the air by mages around her. Celaena immediately sensed blood magic. 

Standing in front of the Divine was a thing. An it. A horrible demented creature. She could not tell if it was a man, or a demon, or something worse. It held an orb in its hand, and it seemed to be drawing on the Divine's life force. 

“Dispose of them,” it commanded. Its deep voice echoing raw energy.

Everything happened so quickly. 

Grey wardens closed in on them. There was fighting, the clashing of blades. From the corner of her eye she saw Luca lunge for the creature. He crashed into the monster, causing the orb to fall from its hands.

Time slowed as she watched it fall to the floor. It captivated Celaena, she could feel its old power pulsating in her veins, calling to her. It whispered things to her, things in the old elvhen tongue. Before she knew what she was doing, she dropped everything and dove for the opalescent orb. She caught it before it could touch the ground.

Flash of green light. 

Searing pain. 

Insides surging with electric power. . . 

Nothing.


	3. The Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to let everyone know that I do plan on updating daily, but of course there may be some days that I don't accomplish that. I plan on updating at least 5 times a week, however!

Celaena awoke in a dimly lit room, propped up in a chair. Shackles were clapped onto her hands and feet. Her head throbbed with each breath she took in. Her eyes settled upon a shemlen. A young girl, she appeared to be a servant. Her face was smudged with dirt. Her eyes widened in fright when she saw that Celaena had awoke, and she scuttled out of the room. 

“She's awake!” Celaena could hear her calling as she ran. 

Where was she? There was Luca, and the Conclave. It was boring and they left, and then. . . she remembered nothing. She desperately groped for some shred of her memory, but nothing was there. It was an awful feeling. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when a fierce looking woman entered. Her presence filled the small room. She was clad in armor with the chantry symbol proudly displayed upon her breastplate. Icy hatred filled her eyes when they rested upon Celaena. She marched up to her and grabbed her by the shirt. She slammed her back against the chair. 

“Why did you kill her?” she growled. 

Her intimidation tactics had no effect on Celaena. She blinked slowly before answering, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“The Divine! Don't play stupid with me, elf.” 

So the Divine was dead? What else had happened in her sleep? “I don't know anything about that.” 

“You walked out of the fade alive! Do not tell me you remember nothing!” 

“The last thing I remember was coming to Haven and going to the Conclave.” No hint of of any emotion showed in her voice. Pure calculation. She kept Luca out of the story so they wouldn't go looking for him. 

“Come with me.”

The woman took off her shackles, and dragged her out of the dungeon and outside. 

“Fenedhis,” Celaena breathed. The sky was ripped open and swirling with a sickly green color.

“We call it the breach. It was created with the explosion in the Conclave, and with it rifts have appeared all over. They are passageways to the fade. There have been reports of demon activity all over since it was created three days ago. People say they saw a woman leading you from the fade, back into this world. You are the sole survivor of the explosion, and now you have that mark on your hand! Now tell me again how you were not involved in this!” Her anger was rolling off of her in waves. 

“Mark?” Celaena asked. She held up her right hand. There was, indeed, a mark. Glowing with otherworldly luminescent green power. Suddenly the power began to surge through her, she cried out in pain and fell to her knees. It was hot and powerful and searing. 

“Every time the breach expands, your mark does that thing. It is killing you. It may be the key to everything, you must come and see what you can do.” 

“Will helping you save me?” Celaena asked. 

“It could,” the intimidating woman replied, “let's go.” 

Celaena didn't like being told what to do, but she wanted this thing off of her. Everything was so confusing, she needed answers. They ran towards the breach. Every once in a while a green orb of light would streak across the sky and fall to the ground. As they were running across the bridge, one landed right in front of them, decimating the ground on which they once stood. 

They crashed and rolled onto the frozen ice below. Celaena groaned and rose her head from the ground. More balls of light came down, crashing on the ice. From them, formed demons. The woman quickly got up and surged ahead, sword drawn. She would get herself killed. A dead soldier lay to her right, two long thin blades lay strewn beside him, forgotten. She grabbed them and ran crashing into battle. 

She flanked a rage demon, slicing her swords into it and whirling when it attacked back, fading back into the distance. Battle was an art form, an art form she had all but perfected. She attacked with graceful ease, and soon all of the demons were slain. 

“Hand over your weapon, elf!” the woman commanded. 

Was she serious? “Would you have me be dead within the hour?” 

The look she got in response seemed to indicate that the woman didn't really care if she was. 

“You're right. I can't protect you. Stay close.” 

Celaena's opinion of the woman shifted a bit as they continued on. It took a lot to admit you were wrong. It was a skill that Celaena had not perfected, and it impressed her. They came across what Celaena supposed was a rift. Demons materialized from it, sending a steady flow of things to kill. They rushed to help the others, swords drawn. She continued her dance of death, smiting everything that dared try to harm her. She fell into a rhythm with the other people fighting beside her, but she paid them no attention. 

The demons did not stop. After she killed one, another one emerged from the rift. It was tiring. Someone grabbed her right hand, thrusting it up toward the rift. She was about to jerk her hand away, but she felt something. Tingling power trickled through her fingers, and a low resonating sound emerged from the rift. The mark on her hand grew hot, but it was nowhere near the pain she experienced earlier. The rift exploded, and the air closed back up. She had healed it. 

She smiled and turned to the person who had grabbed her hand, but the smile soon dropped from her face when she saw who it was. It was that smug, flat-eared apostate. 

“How did you know I could do that?” she asked angrily, snatching her hand away from him. 

“It is the same magic that was used to open the breach. I theorized that it could be used as a tool to close it, and it seems I was correct.” 

“So could I close the big one and go home?” 

“Possibly. It seems that you hold the key to our salvation.” Disdain dripped from his words. He clearly did not like that she had this mark any more than she did. I don't like you much either, flat-ear. She thought to herself. 

“Lady Seeker Cassandra! Am I glad to see you,” a gravelly voice said. She turned to see a dwarf, with a beautiful crossbow strapped to his back. She would love to get her hands on that. 

“Varric,” Cassandra acknowledged. 

The dwarf then stepped towards Celaena. “I am Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tag-along.” 

“I am Celaena Lethallan. And if you tag-along with me, I ensure you it won't be unwelcome if you take that beautiful weapon with you,” she said with a grin, nodding towards the crossbow. 

“I get that a lot,” Varric said with a wink. Celaena laughed and decided that he was her favorite person she had met in Haven so far. “And her name is Bianca, and she will be of great use in the valley.” 

“If introductions are to be in order, I am Solas, and I am glad that you're alive.” said the apostate.

“Also known as 'I kept you from dying in your sleep',” Varric added. 

“Oh. Well, thank you,” Celaena said, swallowing her pride for once. 

They four of them continued on to the breach. As they drew nearer, the signs of the deaths and devastation became more apparent. They came up on the valley, and Celaena audibly gasped. There were corpses, petrified and black. Their faces forever frozen in agony. She had to look away. The atmosphere was different there, the death that had happened seemed to make the air heavier and thicker. 

“Fenedhis,” Celaena whispered under her breath. There was a huge rift in the middle of the valley, it seemed inactive for the moment, thank the Creators. 

“To close it, you must open it first. When you do there is no telling what demons will come from inside,” Solas warned. 

“I can handle it.” Celaena said, clenching her jaw in determination. No one should suffer like this. She whispered prayers to the elvhen pantheon under her breath, asking that Luca be safe. She thought that Solas might have overheard her, but he was not Dalish so she doubted he could understand the old tongue anyway. 

Their party moved on, slowly picking their way down to the rift. There were weird red lyrium crystals jutting from the ground. It felt sick and unnatural, only adding to the depressing atmosphere. They reached the ground, and she held her hand up to the rift. All the people there readied their weapons in anticipation. She felt her mark latch on to the rift, and it pulled it open. 

Demons spilled forth, including one huge one with twisted horns and scaly skin. Time for work. The soldiers and the people with her rallied together, taking down the demons. It was a beautiful dynamic. The battle was not too difficult with their numbers, and eventually they took down the hulking demon. He was big, but stupid. Much like her experience with most shemlen men. 

She thrust her mark towards the rift, and the same feeling began to flow. It took all of her concentration to close it. She felt her energy leaving her, and she screamed out in pain. She fell to her knees as it finally closed. She almost blacked out, but she held on. She needed to do something first.

“We need to get you back, quickly,” Solas said, hauling her up from off the ground. 

“Not yet,” Celaena protested, “I need to go back to where the explosion happened.” 

“With that power you have just wielded, you need rest.” His know it all attitude irked Celaena. There was something much more important that she needed to do. 

“Please.” She pleaded to Solas. She had to see if Luca made it out. She slowly made her way back to where it all began, Solas helped her when she needed it. 

Her heart jumped to her throat when she got there. There were bodies everywhere, some so destroyed they hardly resembled people anymore. She was sure Luca got out, Oso'van was strong. He couldn't be one of these bodies. He couldn't. Her eyes caught on something silver glinting on one of the bodies. 

Bile rose to her throat. She retched out all the contents of her stomach. 

“No.” She fell to her knees. She crawled over to the, and took it off the unrecognizable corpse. It was a relic of the Dalish, an amulet in honor of Elgar'nan. Aridhel had enchanted it for Luca before they left. It was for protection. 

“Oso'van,” she choked out. The walls of denial she had built up came crashing down. Walls she didn't even knew that she had built. “NO!” She screamed to the sky. Dry sobs wracked her body as she knelt in front of her dead brother. A steady stream of elvish prayers in the old tongue left her lips as she rocked herself. She had failed them. Strong, kind Luca. The strangers that had fought with her solemnly watched as this young elf unraveled. She hated to be seen in times of weakness, but she didn't care she didn't fucking care, so plagued with grief that she was. 

She sat there for hours, not letting anyone touch her or speak to her as her sobbing died out. She never planned to move. Solas stood watch of this young elf. The others left. Finally, her exhaustion became too much, and she succumbed to sleep.


	4. Prejudice

Celaena awoke again in Haven, this time in a more comfortable setting. She was in a small cottage, soonlight flooded in through the window. She was in a small bed, and she was clean and comfortably clothed. Again, she awoke to the same servant girl watching over her. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. 

“Herald! You're awake!”

“Herald?” Celaena asked, confused. 

“I must tell Seeker Cassandra,” she said, and she fled the room without another word. 

Celaena found that Luca's amulet was clasped around her neck. Emotions bubbled up inside of her. Her throat stung as she tried to keep down her tears. She could not let herself go down that path again, it would be easy to lose herself to her grief but she had to contain it. 

She left the little house, scrambling up some air of confidence. The shemlen around her began murmuring things about her. It wasn't with the usual disdain Celaena had grown used to, they were in awe of her. She didn't know what to make of this shift. 

She entered the Chantry in hopes of finding Cassandra. She seemed to be the one in charge around here. There were raised voices coming from inside a room. Cassandra, and some weaselly sounding man. She barged in, not caring if she interrupted, and the man turned to face her. He regarded her with contempt. Another Chantry member with an higher-than-thou attitude. How refreshing. 

“Arrest her! Take this elf to Val Royeaux for trial and execution!” He commanded. 

“Remember how the sky decided to tear itself open a new asshole? Because it is still there, and I'm apparently the only one who can close the damned thing.”

His eyes nearly bulged out of his skull at her flamboyant language. If she were in better spirits, she would have laughed. 

“So you're staying to help, then?” Cassandra asked. 

“I'll fix you shemlen's mess.” She would only stay because it was her duty. It would be what Luca would have wanted. Besides, if this thing did get out of hand it would effect her sooner or later so it would be best to take care of it now. 

“Good. We have a lot to go over, Herald. Leave us, Lord Chancellor, if you please.” She said towards the annoying little man. He left, but not without making his disapproval clear. Two other women entered the room after he left. 

Josephine Montilyet, a beautiful woman with an exotic accent. Her movements were graceful and fluid, she was a politician. The other was Leliana. She had short red hair, and was the right hand of Divine Justinia. . . amongst other things. Namely, the leader of a group of assassins. Interesting. 

They spoke to her of the Inquisition, of all of their grand plans for the future. She had to admit, their intentions seemed noble. Yet, so did the Templars when they begun. All big organizations could be easily corrupted. She was skeptical, but she listened. 

“Why are the people calling me the Herald?” she asked when they were done explaining everything. 

It was Leliana who answered, “The people believe you to be the Herald of Andraste. They say Andraste herself delivered you from the fade to help save us from the breach.” 

Celaena was more disgusted with her new title. “Do you people understand how insulting that is?” The blank stares received told her that they, in fact, do not understand. Creators help her to have patience with these ignorant shemlen. 

“I am a Dalish elf! I believe in the elven pantheon. Not your 'Maker'. Not your 'Andraste'.” 

“True or not, you give people hope.” Leliana replied, eyes burning bright with passion. 

“I'm glad they have hope, but do it without insulting my heritage,” she snapped. So much for patience. She felt guilty and regretted her outburst, but everything she said was true. She took her leave and left the Chantry, she needed air. 

As she ambled around, she saw how organized everything seemed to be here despite its new birth. It did look sort of scraped together, but organized. They were doing a good job so far. The breach still looming in the sky put everything into perspective. 

She found Varric by some tents, polishing Bianca. “So you staying, Whitey?” He asked. 

“Whitey? Come on, you can do better than that.” She said. She assumed he was referring to her white hair, chopped close to her head haphazardly. In the past, she would have been hurt when little Dalish children made fun of her odd white hair, but she has long passed the stage of being self conscious of it. In fact, she quite enjoyed it now. She was unique. 

“You're right. I'll keep working on it.” He said while laughing in the deep rumbling manner he did.

“Let me know if you come up with anything better.” 

“Will do. . . Glowey.” 

“Glowey?” She said, the corner of her mouth turned up in amusement.

“Your mark. It glows. You, my friend, are Glowey.” Celaena wondered just exactly when their relationship escalated to friendship in their two brief, but she took it. He was easy to talk to, and so far hasn't insulted her, which was a first in this place. 

“Fair enough. See you around Bowman.” Her rebuttal was weak, but she didn't have that much to work with. Using the obvious 'you're short' angle would only have been too easy. He laughed anyway. It was a nice change of pace to have a conversation that wasn't centered around their impending doom. 

She explored some more, and she eventually found Solas. She wasn't really looking for him, but he intrigued her. Heat rushed to her face as she remembered that he watched her cry, and sadness filled her heart as she remembered why. 

“Herald,” he acknowledged politely. 

“Not you, too.” she said, shooting him a disgusted look. The twinkle in his eyes made her realize that the irony of this entire situation was not lost on him. 

“My apologies.” 

“I could call you some things of my own,” she muttered. 

“Oh?” He said in amusement, waiting for her response. She decided it best that she didn't call him flat-ear apostate shiny-head, despite the ring it had to it. At least not yet. 

“How do you know so much about the breach?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. 

“I have extensively explored the fade, and learned many things in my travels there.” 

“Like Da'fen!” she said. She smiled as she remembered her golden-headed little sister. 

“Excuse me?” Solas replied. He looked taken aback. 

“My little sister is a fadewalker as well, the first in our clan for ages. Da'fen is just a name that I have for her.” 

“And does she have a name for you?” He inquired. 

“Da'nen, but it is my brother who usually calls me that. . .” she trailed off as her thoughts once again returned to Luca. She reached up to touch the amulet, her last reminder of him. She had promised herself that she would be strong, but her strength was failing. 

“It suits you. You're Dalish then, I presume?” Solas asked, thankfully changing the subject. It was clear he very well knew she was Dalish, but he changed the subject for her sake. 

“Proudly so.” She stated. It was clear Solas did not approve. His lips pursed, as if he had eaten something bitter. She was becoming tired of being judged by these people. 

“And so you're a city elf?” She asked, throwing his judgment back in his face. 

“I would say I exist somewhere outside of both.” Outside of both? You were either a city elf, or a Dalish. She had not heard of anything else. He was just trying to act superior. 

“Why do you dislike the Dalish?” 

“I never said I disliked them.” 

“I'm not an idiot. I can see you don't approve.” 

“I just don't like how the Dalish try to preserve a heritage they don't understand. I myself have walked the fade, I know of the elvhen before our time. So many customs have been twisted,” Solas said, passion leaking into his usually calm voice. 

“And if you know so much, why don't you teach the Dalish what they have been doing wrong? You judge us for being ignorant, yet you will not share your knowledge? At least we're trying! It is better than city elves who threw away everything that we were, giving it all up to be second-class citizens amongst the Shemlen.” Celaena's distrust of humans ran deep within her, for her own reasons. The thought of city elves letting themselves be walked over made her sick. 

“You think the clans would listen to some 'flat-ear' such as me?” 

“If you had any truth to your words, then maybe so. You cannot presume to know the reactions of us,” Celaena spat. She was getting worked up and she continued in a flurry, “I am tired of being judged by everyone around here. If I didn't have this fucking mark on my hand I would just be a knife-ear to them, and I see now that I am not free from judgment even from another elf.”

She stormed away before he could answer. This time she did not regret her outburst. She took to the woods. If she could not find comfort with another elf, she would find comfort in solace as she did at home. She scaled the tallest tree she could find, and settled in its branches. From here she had a great view of Haven below, and the breach in the sky. 

From her place in the tree, she could see Solas looming up at her, no bigger than an ant. She closed one eye, brought her middle finger to her thumb, and pretended to flick him away. She often would do this as a child whenever someone did something that made her angry. She wished she could flick away all of her troubles, but for that she would need a higher tree, and much bigger fingers.


	5. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: Yes, there will be some events that happen out of order, and I'm not going to use dialogue taken directly from the game. I apologize for any inconsistencies with the game, but this is a fanfic so I do what I want. B)

Celaena hadn't again argued with Solas but their argument still hung between them. Solas, Varric, Cassandra, and Celaena had set out to The Hinterlands to do various Inquisition tasks. Get better horses for the Inquisition, close rifts, set up camps, set up watchtowers, and more. There was an endless flow of things to do in the expansive region. She executed everything as quickly and as efficiently as possible. She just wanted to return home. 

They had come here for one reason in particular, and that was to seek out Mother Giselle. Celaena earned her favor, and in turn Mother Giselle advised her to go to Val Royeaux to gain Chantry support. She seemed nice enough, but Celaena never quite got along with people with a fervent religious belief in the Maker. It was tiresome trying to follow their words, they had a habit of splicing in quotes from the chant of light into normal conversations. 

Throughout their journeys, she had come into contact with many people calling her the Herald of Andraste. To those who adamantly believed, she said nothing. To those who asked, she denied any affiliation with Andraste. She had to pick her battles. 

The group was on their way back to Haven to regroup and go back to the war table. Celaena was scouting ahead, as usual. They had just gotten out of a particularly nasty encounter with apostates and templars. They tried to break up the fighting without casualties, but that sentiment was quickly disbanded when both groups turned on them as well. It hurt Celaena to have to murder all those people, especially the apostates. She believed in the mage cause fervently, and having to kill them seemed wrong. Mana and stamina were low, almost nonexistent. They were trudging through hills trying to find a good place to set up camp. 

Celaena began to climb a tree, despite her exhaustion. She wanted to get a better vantage point so they wouldn't be wondering around aimlessly. She failed to realize that some of the branches on the tree she chose to climb were a bit thin, and in her exhaustion she didn't meticulously and carefully choose her footing as she always did. She stepped on a thin branch not up to holding her weight, and it snapped. She did not quite understand what was happening as she fell. Her? Fall from a tree? It had never happened before. There was a reason she was called Little Bird, after all. Her heart leapt from her chest as she scrambled to get ahold of something. She yelped as she fell, hitting a few branches on the way down. 

She hit the ground and a lot of the impact was absorbed by her ankle. It wasn't broken, but it was throbbing profusely. She wouldn't be able to stand. Scrapes and bruises covered her body, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. Her companions came rushing up to her. 

“That's gotta hurt,” Varric commented. 

“I don't think I can walk on my ankle. Due north is a perfect place to set up camp, I will wait here and you can come back for me when you're settled.” 

“Absolutely not. We will not have you sit here defenseless,” said Cassandra, “we can carry you.” 

“I must agree with the Seeker,” Solas said. With Varric being short, and Cassandra weighed down by all of her armor, it seemed that Solas would be her pack mule for the night. He offered his hands to Celaena, and she accepted them, taking his long slender fingers in hers. He pulled her upright. She balanced carefully on one leg. She lost her balance momentarily, and reflexively put down her injured foot. She tried to play it off as if it didn't hurt, but her sharp intake of breath betrayed her. 

“Careful, Lavellan,” Solas said. 

“Oh really? I was thinking we throw all caution into the wind,” she bit off sarcastically. She mentally kicked herself for the rude comment, even if he did make her angry. He was offering to carry her after all. He had become accustomed to ignoring her sarcastic comments, so he didn't have a retort. 

Solas turned around, offering his back to her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he looped his arm around her injured leg. She jumped and he caught the other, and he did a little hop to drive her further up his back. They continued North just as Celaena suggested. 

Solas and Celaena quickly fell behind. She didn't blame him, it was difficult traveling on uneven terrain, much less with another person on your back. In this close vicinity, Celaena couldn't help but notice how good he smelled. Like pine-needles and fresh linen. 

“You know, the last time you were this close to me you were trying to steal my necklace,” Solas said, his voice the main event over a chorus of crickets. At least he was conscious of the close proximity, too.

Celaena's face blushed red with the memory, “I had hoped that you didn't know that was me.” 

“It would be impossible not to notice you.” She could hear the gentle smile in his voice. That comment almost sounded flirtatious, but no. It must be Celaena's imagination running off without her, as per usual. 

“Sorry about that, by the way.” Celaena laughed bemusedly at the memory. 

“Actually, it is I that must apologize to you. I have been thinking quite a lot about our conversation back at Haven, and you're right. It seems that I did judge you too quickly. You have surpassed my expectations countless times during our time here in The Hinterlands.” 

“I would apologize as well, but I still stand by everything I said. Perhaps I could have gone about the conversation more tactfully,” Celaena admitted. 

“Tact and you don't go together well.”

Celaena opened her mouth as if to protest, and then decided that he was teasing. And, she could admit, what he said did hold truth.

“So I guess I don't have to call you flat-ear apostate shiny-head anymore.” 

This comment got her a genuine laugh from Solas. She liked the sound of it, and decided that she wanted to make him laugh more. The laughter subsided, and the crickets seemed to get louder in comparison. 

“I have been meaning to tell you something else,” Solas said warily. 

“Yes?” 

“I wanted to say that I am sorry for your loss, and I am sorry you did not get time to properly mourn.” 

Celaena had not been expecting that. Nobody had acknowledged her loss before now, and she was touched. 

“Ma serannas,” Celaena whispered. She rested her head against his shoulder, again confronted by her unabsolved sorrow for the loss of her dear brother. She doubted that she would ever go a day when she did not miss him. Tears did not come, but exhaustion did. 

She was rocked to sleep by the gentle pace of Solas's walk, and was only roused when she was transferred from his back to her sleeping mat that Cassandra and Varric had already prepared. She found her new sleeping arrangement less comfortable and less enjoyable than the one before.


	6. Val Royeaux

Celaena whined like a child as they walked into Val Royeaux. She didn't want to go. They made her put on stupid, showy armor. She was cleaned and polished and was dressed in layers of colorful fabric. She was supposed to look rich and regal. Creators, she was a fucking elf—nobody was going to just forget because she had on some purple. 

“You're doing it again, Glowey,” Varric warned. 

“What?” 

“You look like you're going to murder everyone here,” Varric said. Celaena mumbled something about wanting to, but she did fix her face. Or at least, she tried. She honestly didn't see the point of all this diplomacy, the only outcome she could imagine is everyone calling her a heathen and spitting at her feet. 

Celaena walked slowly into the city, admiring the beautiful sculptures, and ornate designs. There were potted plants lining the streets, filled with dainty flowers. The buildings were tall, held up by thick white columns. As she entered the square, there was a large fountain overflowing with crystal clear water. A woman stood in front of a crowd of people, her face pinched with anger as addressed Celaena. 

“People of Val Royeaux! We mourn the loss of our Divine, and we wonder what will happen of her murderer. Wonder no more. Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste. A false prophet!” The woman said in a thick accent, pointing at Celaena. Delightful.

“I never once have claimed to be your Herald. I am only here to speak of a common enemy—and that is the breach in the sky.” 

“It is too late. The templars will restore order, and we shall be safe once more!” 

The sound of armor jostling was heard before she saw the templars enter the square. Celaena tensed. She was ready to take out her weapons if she needed. One of the templars approached the woman. He then punched the woman in the head, and she fell to the ground unconscious. She had not been expecting that. 

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Celaena challenged. 

“On the contrary, it was not for you at all,” a man said, walking up to them. He clearly thought himself terribly important. If things went wrong, maybe Celaena would have the opportunity to put him back in his place. 

Cassandra stepped up beside her to talk, “Lord Seeker Lucius, it is imperative that we speak with--” 

“You shall not address me.” 

“Lord Seeker?”

Celaena had never heard someone speak to Cassandra like that. Nobody disrespects Cassandra. Even Celaena had learned better, and she usually disrespected everyone. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself. Making a heretical movement and raising up a false prophet. You should all be ashamed. The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages,” he proclaimed, pointing, an accusing finger at Celaena, “you are the ones that have failed. You who leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear. If you came to appeal to the chantry, you are too late. The only authority that demands respect is mine!” 

Lavellan's nose wrinkled in disgust. “Then why are you even here?”

“I have seen that Val Royeaux is unworthy of protection, and the Inquisition unworthy of my time. I alone will make the templars a force that will stand alone against the void! We deserve recognition. You have shown me nothing. Templars, we march.” He turned his back on Celaena, and walked away—the templars in tow. Celaena honestly hadn't been expecting to walk out of here without a fight. 

“What a pleasant fellow,” Varric commented. 

“I am glad to see that my opinion of templars are correct. Don't worry, Cassandra. We can go after the mages,” Celaena said. There was no way she was working with them after that display. 

“I fear they will be unstable, Herald. There are others in the templar order that will be reasonable.”

“I would much rather side with the mages. You judge them all too quickly. Take Solas, for example. He's completely level-headed, and he's a mage.” 

“We shall discuss this another time, Herald. We need to get back to the others.”

Celaena turned to leave, when an arrow whizzed by her ear. Before she could even knew what was happening, her daggers were out and she was poised to fight. 

“Easy, Lavellan. It is just a note,” Solas assured her. 

“Right.” She sheathed her weapons. She was slightly embarassed at having been so quick to draw her blades. She bent over and plucked the arrow from the ground. It had a carefully folded note attached with a bright red ribbon. It was some cryptic message about the color red, and a girl named Jenny. She didn't really know, she barely skimmed it. Celaena didn't have the patience for this. 

“Let me see,” Varric said. Celaena handed the note off to him. “Interesting. We should follow up on this.” 

“We don't have time.” 

“Come on! A secret note, clues, this is good stuff!”

“It could be worth the time,” Solas added. 

“Alright, fine. let's just do this quickly,” Celaena relented. They gathered all of the clues that eventually led them to a shaded alleyway. Of course it did.

It was very quiet and here. It was tucked away from the bustle of the city. Celaena drew her blades again. Sure enough, guards came running through the gate ahead, and she doubted that it was to greet her. At least she would get some action out of this. 

She rendered herself invisible, flanking the group. She gave quick, powerful blows to the group before she retreated and did it again. It was an extremely effective strategy when she had others to fight alone with her, and the group was dispatched within thirty seconds. 

“When will people learn to stop trying to kill us,” she wondered aloud, wiping the blood from her daggers on her thigh. Josephine was going to scold her for ruining these pants. She kept going. She couldn't turn back now, someone clearly wanted her dead. She would have to add them on to her ever growing list. 

In the middle the secluded area stood a little man, hands on his hips, wearing the most ridiculous mask she had ever seen.

“Ah, the Herald of Andraste! You have fallen right into my trap I am Duke. . ,” his monoluge continued, but Celaena stopped listening. This city just loved a good monologue. Celaena was palming her daggers, about to throw one at the Duke when a young elf girl stepped out of the shadows. Her bow was drawn, pointed right at the Duke's head. 

“Just say what,” 

“Wha--,” thwack. The arrow impaled the Duke right in the temple. The girl made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes as she bounded over and pulled the arrow out of his head. 

“You heard me right? Just say what. Rich tits always try for more than they deserve. Blah blah blah, obey me, arrow in my face. So, you followed the notes well enough glad to see you're. . . and you're an elf. Well, hope you're not too elfy. I mean it's all good innit? The important thing is you glow. You're the Herald of Andraste.” 

She talked so quickly, said so much, Celaena wasn't sure she followed. It was like she got sidetracked in the middle of her sentences and picked up on another thought halfway through.

“I am more an elf than I am some Herald,” Celaena replied. This earned her a frown from the girl. 

“Anyhow, the name is Sera. So Herald. . . you're a strange one. I'd like to join.” 

“What can you offer?” 

“I have friends. Friends of Red Jenny. Just small people, here and there. But we work together, yeah? A small thing here, a small thing there. Stickin' it to the nobles. Eventually there a tons of small things, adds up, yeah? Anyway, do you need people or not? I just want to get things back to normal.” 

Celaena thought of it for a moment, but decided that it was worth a shot. She wouldn't turn down another good fighter. “Fine, you can join.” 

Sera was definitely eccentric, but who knows. Maybe she could be useful.

Her companions were standing around, awaiting her command. She needed to do something first. 

“You guys go ahead, I need a moment,” she said. They left her reluctantly, a few of them giving her quizzical looks. When they got out of the gate, she ran over to the noble and took off his mask. It was hilarious. She laughed as she looked at it. She was so going to try this on later. 

She began to put it in her satchel when she heard something. She snapped her head around to see Solas standing at the gate, eyebrows raised. Their eyes locked, he had caught her red handed. 

“Oh, come on. You can't tell me this isn't the most horrible thing you've ever seen!” She said defensively. 

“This is why you needed to be left alone?” Solas asked, breaking out into a low chuckle. 

“Yes, because asses like you would judge me!” Her words were harsh, but she was laughing too. She hurled the mask at Solas, and he caught it deftly and tossed it aside. 

“Come on let us return to Haven.” 

“You're no fun,” Celaena protested, a smile still lingering. He left the area, and Celaena jogged after him, but not before stuffing the mask into her bag. 

“You just picked that up, didn't you?” He asked without turning around. 

“Just keep walking, shiny-head.”


	7. The Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short it is! The next one is going to be pretty long though, so it makes up for it. I just thought that where I stopped was more appropriate. :)

Before they actually made it out of Val Royeaux, they were approached by Grand Enchanter Fiona. She invited them to meet with the rebel mages in Redcliffe. They were also approached by a man inviting them to visit a certain First Enchanter Vivienne. So Val Royeaux hadn't been a total loss after all. The highlight of it all, of course, was the mask she had tucked away in her bag.

They arrived at Haven quickly, thanks to the travel magic and the waypoint. Celaena thanked the Creators that she didn't have to suffer any more traveling with Sera than necessary. She had bugged her incessantly with her slight digs at the Dalish. Not to mention that it was quite a task to understand what the girl was talking of in the first place. As soon as they arrived back, Sera quickly scouted out the tavern and made it her new favorite haunt. This didn't surprise Celaena in the least. 

Celaena hardly got time to relax before she was ushered into the war room and introduced to Commander Cullen. He was ruggedly handsome, and had a scar that split his upper lip that brought character to his face. He seemed nice enough. Fortunately, they didn't make awkward pleasantries and instead got to work on decideding a course of action. 

Cullen leaned towards the templars, as did Cassandra. In the end, of course, it was decided that they would leave for Redcliffe first thing in the morning to meet with the First Enchanter. For the first time in a while, Celaena had the entire rest of the day to do what she wished—and she knew exactly what to do. 

She ran through Haven, her bag slapping against her thigh with every stride. She came to a halt in front of Solas, she was already breathless with excitement.

“In a hurry?” He asked. 

“We get the rest of the day to rest before we go to meet with the mages tomorrow, and there is no time to waste. You have to wear the hat,” she said breathlessly while pulling it out of the bag. 

“Why are you so fascinated with that thing?” He asked bemusedly.

“This, my friend is art. Terrible, hilarious art. I've never seen anything like it before! And I have come to believe that it must be you that wears it.”

“You truly fascinate me, Lavellan,” Solas said with a smile and a shake of the head. 

“I fascinate you, do I?” she teased, raising an eyebrow in interest. 

“How could you not? You are very different from what I expected of a young Dalish girl.” This brought a frown to Celaena's lips. 

“Girl? I am a woman, I am twenty-one years.” 

“My apologies,” Solas said. The glint of amusement in his eye told her that he was not actually very apologetic. It was annoying to not be seen as an equal, but she would not let that ruin this moment for her. Yes, she could be immature--but she strove to not turn out dull with no sense of humor like many of the elders in her clan often did. She would take happiness over boredom any day. 

“So are you going to wear it? For me? Since I'm so fascinating at all,” she said with a wink. Her flirtation was deliberate. Making the fadewalker flustered would be fun to watch. 

“What do I get in return?” He retorted in an equally flirtatious tone. How did that happen? She didn't expect Solas to be smooth. 

“What would you want?” She said, not intimidated by his response. It only made her bolder. 

“I am sure I will think of something one day,” he laughed. He took the mask from Celaena's hands and studied it. With a sigh that told her that he couldn't believe what he was going to do, he placed it on his head. Celaena watched in completely amused silence. She really needed to remember this moment. 

Varric had been on his way to speak to Celaena, and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what was happening. “I don't want to know,” he said as he turned and left. This broke the dam that was holding back her laughter. Solas took off the mask and watched as Celaena dissolved into a fit of giggles that she had thought impossible without Luca. He couldn't help but wonder what he had gotten himself into.


	8. Redcliffe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry about the delay. I got really off track with schoolwork and such, plus this chapter for some reason was difficult to write. I kept on not liking it so I rewrote it three times. FINALLY it is out, and hopefully I can get the pace up again.

Back in The Hinterlands, again. Celaena was beginning to enjoy the familiarity of it. The weather was mild, and the views were nice. Redcliffe was beautiful. Warm, autumn colors, and plenty of trees that Celaena would love to spend a lazy afternoon in. 

She had chosen to drag Sera along this time, despite the rocky first impression. After all, she was highly skilled with a bow. Her attitude towards the Dalish soured Celaena's opinion of her, but her tendency to question others and cause a ruckus was somewhat admirable. Another plus was that Sera drove Solas mad, which was always fun to watch. 

They quickly found the Gull and Lantern, and wasted no time before entering. Fiona was there, and she seemed surprised to see them. “Who are you?” she demanded. 

“We're with the Inquisition. You extended an invitation to us here in Val Royeaux. We've come to speak about a potential alliance with the rebel mages.” 

“There must be some mistake, I haven't been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave,” she said. She didn't seem to be joking. Maybe she had taken the liberty of passing the time here with a few ales. 

“It doesn't matter anyway. We have already forged an alliance with the Tevinter Imperium. I no longer have the authority to speak with you on the behalf of the rebel mages.” 

“You're serious?” Celaena asked, dumbfounded, “you've made a huge mistake.” 

Before Fiona could respond, the doors to the tavern opened and in walked a Tevinter Magister. 

“Ah, you are the Herald, I presume? I was wondering when we might meet. I am Magister Gerion Alexius, and this is my son Felix,” he said with a gesture to a young man at his side. 

“We have come to see to an alliance with the mages, but it seems that you have beat us to it,” Celaena said. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She did not trust Tevinters with their blood magic, and their tendency to keep elven slaves. Or any slaves at all, really. 

“They are indentured to me, yes. Have a seat, Herald so we can discuss this further.” Alexius sat down and Celaena sat across from him.   
“We need mages to fix the breach. It is a cause that is in everyone's best interest,” Celaena said to open up the negotiations. 

“It is an ambitious goal. You will need many mages to take on such a task.” 

“Yes, well that is where you come in. We don't think small at the Inquisition.” 

“Well, there will have to be--” Alexius was interuppted by his son who was staggering towards them. He was clenching his side. Celaena got up from her seat and caught him as he began to fall. Through this exchange, a note was pressed into her hand. 

“Felix!” Alexius cried out. He took him from Celaena and began to leave the tavern. “We must continue this at a later date,” he said hastily as he left. 

Once they were safely gone, she unfolded the paper. It read: Come to the Chantry, you are in danger. Solas peered at the later from behind her shoulder. She could feel his breath on her face as he read. 

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” Celaena grumbled as she left. This could very well be a trap, but she didn't care. She had her daggers, and she was prepared to fight. She threw open the doors to the Chantry to see a rift. A man was fighting of hordes of demons, a well-groomed man with a mustache that turned up at the corners. 

“So you made it. Would you help me close this thing?” he said entirely too nonchalantly to be fighting as many demons as he was. She dove headfirst into the thick of things, rolling up with daggers in hand in a fighting position. If he was going to show off, then so was she. She fought the demons with a devilish grin on her face. She hadn't been able to release her pent up energy for a while, and it felt good. As she ran towards a rage demon, something odd happened. Her steps were slow, as if she were running through honey. Everything moved in slow-motion. Things went back to normal after a while, and then all of the sudden they sped up. 

The last wraith was killed by a well-aimed arrow from Sera, and Celaena used her mark to seal the rift. The familiar feeling of tingling power laced with pain came from her hand as she used her mark. She did not let the pain show, however. 

“Thanks for that. It would be a shame if I were to have broken a sweat,” the mage said with a lopsided smile. 

“It is no problem. I'm used to saving damsels in distress,” she replied, matching his wit. “Now that the rift is gone, I assume you have answers?” 

“Yes. Magister Alexius was my mentor—so my assistance should be valuable.” 

“Who are you, by the way?” Celaena asked. 

“Ah, getting ahead of myself again I see. I am Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minratheous.” 

“And why help us?” 

“Well, someone had to warn you. It is obvious that danger is already imminent. Let us begin with Alexius stealing the mages from under you, shall we? I believe that he is using time magic. I had helped him develop it—but back then it was just theory. We could never get it to work.” 

“If true, that is most fascinating. And almost certainly dangerous,” Solas piped in. Celaena almost rolled her eyes at him geeking out again. 

“Indeed. You saw how the rift here twisted time around itself. Slowed some things down, and sped some things up. If he keeps using it those will start appearing further and further from Redcliffe. The magic he is using is highly unstable, and it is unraveling the world. What I don't understand is why is doing it. Ripping the fabric of time just to gain a few hundred lackeys?” 

“He isn't doing it for them,” a man said, emerging from the shadows. Felix, Celaena recalled. 

“Took you long enough. Is he getting suspicious?” Dorian asked. 

“No, but it was stupid of me to play the illness card. I thought that I would never get out of there,” Felix said, addressing Dorian. He turned to Celaena and said, “My father has joined a group of Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves Venatori. And I can ensure you, that whatever they're doing, it is to get to you.” 

“How flattering. They will have to wait their turn, of course. They can get in line with the rest.” The whole, 'I want you dead' thing was starting to bore Celaena. It infuriated her even more so that people wanted to kill her because they believed her to be the Herald—she had enough of that being a Dalish elf. 

“Now that you know that you're his target, that gives you an advantage. Whenever you decide to confront Alexius, which I expect will be soon, I want to be there. I must be going, Alexius doesn't know I'm here and for now I wish to keep it that way. Oh, and Felix? Try not to get yourself killed.” With that last sentiment, the eccentric Tevinter mage turned and left the Chantry. 

“Now what?” Celaena said, her mind reeling. 

Cassandra replied, “Now we head to the war table and get to work.” 

Great.


	9. Time Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is short, sorry! I just know the next chapter will be a big one, so it was either wait a day and get a huge chapter or just upload this one now. I made the executive decision to do the latter.

“Magister Alexius has extended an invitation for you at Redcliffe castle. In fact, he is so complimentary of you we are sure that he intends to kill you,” Leliana said as they gathered around the war table. 

“That much is obvious. What do you suggest we do?” Celaena asked. 

“The fortress has stood against many attacks throughout the ages. We will not have enough force to attack it head on,” Cullen said. 

“There is another way. There are hidden escape passageways underneath the castle. It is too narrow to send troops in, but we can send in some agents,” Leliana suggested. 

“They would surely be found out and killed,” Cassandra added. Celaena nodded in agreement. 

“Unless we give him what he wants. I could take a few people with me to meet him. I can create a distraction.” 

“That. . . could work,” Cassandra commented. 

“That is too dangerous for her. We can't allow it,” Cullen said. Celaena rolled her eyes. 

“I'm not a child, I can handle myself. I will take Cassandra and Solas along, and that Dorian fellow will meet us there. I'll be fine.” She got no response, so she decided that the meeting was over. “It is settled then.” 

Along with Cassandra and Solas, she trekked to Redcliffe Castle. They met Dorian at the entrance. He was dressed in battle robes, and his staff was ready. This did not put her at ease, however she came here for a fight. 

“Shall we?” He said with a raised eyebrow. 

“I suppose so,” she said with an affirmative nod. They entered the castle and met Magister Alexius. He was sitting on a throne, looking very pleased with himself. 

“Ah, the Inquisitor. I am so happy that you could make it.” he said with a sickly grin. Pleasantries. Celaena was so sick of pleasantries. It was just meaningless words masked with a fake smile, even if you knew that the person wished you to be dead. 

“I was wondering if you could answer a question for me, Alexius?” she asked. 

“Of course, ask away!” 

“What do you know of time magic?” she demanded. He had not been expecting that. 

“Why, I don't know what you're--” 

“Cut the bullshit. We know what you've been doing” His mask of politeness dropped, revealing only cold disdain underneath. 

“I told them, father,” Felix added while walking up beside him. 

“Why, Felix?” 

“Because you were turning into the worst Tevinter stereotype. And with the Venatori. . . you had to be stopped.” 

“This is your fault!” Alexius growled, pointing a finger at Celaena. “You with your stolen gift. You stole that from my master, from The Elder One!” 

“Who is this Elder One?” 

“He is a god. You messed with his plans, and now I will take your head to him.” Before Celaena could do anything else, the amulet around his neck began to glow with power. 

“No!” Dorian yelled, jumping and shoving Celaena out of the way. A rift opened, and they were swallowed up inside. They were dropped in shallow water, she landing with a grunt upon impact. She found Dorian beside her. They got to their feet. There were stone walls, and falling rubble everywhere. The place had a sickening red glow to it. 

“Where are we?” she asked the mage. 

“I believe the better question is not where, but when. I believe that Alexius has sent us through time.” 

Celaena's stomach dropped. She had to get back, she must. Was Aridhel safe in this time? “Can we do anything?” 

“Well, perhaps if we get the amulet we may be able to do something. I could be able to recreate the spell. The problem is finding the amulet- if it even exists in this time period.” 

“It is better then laying around in a foot of dirty water. Let's go.” Celaena said, a glint of determination in her eyes. They picked their way through the castle desperately trying to find their way back into their time.


	10. Back to the Future

He had failed. Ever since he had been caught and locked away into this cell he had relived Lavellan's death, watched powerless as her and the Tevinter mage vanished. All hope had disappeared with her. He had thought that even if she were gone that maybe he could fix his mistakes. Maybe he could be powerful enough. But no. He needed her. The world needed her. Now they were doomed to die. How strange that an ordinary Dalish girl had the power to change the course of the entire world. But that wasn't quite true, was it? She wasn't an ordinary Dalish elf. Not at all.

Red lyrium had poisoned him over time, it crept through his veins, giving him hallucinations and immeasurable pain. He began to hallucinate once again as he saw Lavellan and Dorian running towards him. 

“Solas,” she said in disbelief, grasping the cold metal bars that separated them. He reached out and touched her hand hesitantly. When his fingers touched real flesh, he pulled it back in shock. She was real. If he didn't know any better he would have dropped to his knees and praised the maker. 

“You're alive?” he breathed, his voice cracking from disuse. 

“I never died. Dorian and I were sent through time. We need to get the amulet so that we can go back,” she said while she made quick work of the lock on his cell. She yanked open the doors so that their was no longer a barrier in between them. 

“I'm glad you're alive,” she said. He could read the shock in her eyes as she scanned his body. It was fragile and infected by red lyrium. He had grown pathetic in that cell. She surprised him as she wrapped her arms around his middle, giving him a brief hug. He returned the embrace, “And I am very glad you are too,” he responded.   
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She quickly composed herself, slightly embarrassed she had hugged him. It was just nice to have another familiar face around. She had lost so many of her loved ones throughout her life, and though she would never admit it, she was scared to lose any more. As they continued through the dungeons he told them all that had happened in their year of absence. An assassinated empress, a demon army, the fall of mankind. The Elder One had rose to be a god, more powerful than the maker. Celaena grew more angry with every word he spoke. She could never allow this to happen. She wasn't dedicated to the Inquisition before, but she was now. She needed to prevent this world from coming to pass. For her clan, for Da'fen, for all of Thedas. 

They found Cassandra in a similar state as Solas, but the red lyrium was even more present in her. She had been captured the day that they went through the time rift, Solas had escaped for a while but was eventually recaptured.

“I'm sorry,” Celaena said while looking at her in her decrepit state. She helped Cassandra to her feet. 

“Thank the maker you're alive. But how?” Cassandra asked. 

Celaena quickly surmised what had happened, and told her that they needed to find the amulet to be sent back into time. Cassandra seemed as determined as ever. Once you put a goal in front of her, she would reach it. 

“Let's get moving,” she said. With everyone ready to go, they made their way through the winding halls. They periodically stopped to clear out a room of red lyrium infected guards. It seemed superfluous to Celaena, considering that if they succeeded their deaths would have been useless. But they did it nevertheless. She supposed that it would be useful to have less opponents if they couldn't get back—but she pushed that thought out of her mind. They would get back. They had to. 

They entered a room with bodies strewn about, cut open and bled to death. There were knives, rusted archaic machines, and gurneys. Some bodies had daggers protruding from them, securing them to tables. It was awful. They had wondered upon a torture chamber. 

“Fenedhis,” she breathed, trying to keep the bile rising from her stomach down. She said a quiet prayer, asking Mythal to grant them justice and she prayed that Fen'Harel wouldn't lead their spirits astray. She could feel Solas listening to her elven words. 

“We should keep moving,” he said gently, placing a hand against the small of her back and steering her away from the carnage. A cry of pain came from the adjacent room. Rage flooded through her veins, and red tinted her vision. They would not hurt anyone else. 

She went invisible, and with calculated anger she slipped into the next room and stalked her prey. The victim was hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, which were bound by chains. There were two guards by her. She snuck up behind one, and drew her dagger across his throat. The other guard looked at his partner in alarm, and as he was turned away the captive woman put her legs over his shoulders. She squeezed his neck with her thighs and broke his neck. He slumped to the floor, dead. Celaena pilfered the key from the dead guard, and reached up to unlock her shackles. 

“Leliana?” she asked, noticing the prisoner. Her skin was wrinkled and sallow, almost beyond recognition. What had they done to her? 

“You're alive,” Leliana stated. She rubbed her raw wrists as she collected her bow and arrows from a chest. 

“Are you not curious as to where we've been?” Dorian asked, walking into the room. 

“No. Let's just get out of here.” 

Even though Leliana said she wasn't curious, Celaena felt the need to explain what happened anyway. She had to. She didn't want Leliana to think she had abandoned them to die and suffer. She may not like most shems, but she wasn't without a heart. She didn't want innocent people to die. She explained everything to Leliana, but she didn't look phased. 

“This may just be some alternate future for you, but not for us. We lived this. It is real. I will do anything to prevent this from happening, just tell me what to do.” 

“We need to find Alexius, and more importantly his amulet. I may be able to recreate the spell which would send us back to the present,” Dorian said.

“He must be in the throne room. Follow me.” They followed Leliana, the guards becoming more frequent as they neared the destination. They fought their way through the throngs of guards until they made it to the throne room. Celaena threw open the doors to find Alexius sitting on the throne. A sickly Felix sat next to him. Felix's eyes were glazed over and vacant. Alexius look older, defeated. The amulet hung around his neck like a pendulum.

“Give us the amulet, Alexius,” Dorian demanded. 

“It's too late. The Elder One is coming.” 

“Was it really worth it?” Dorian asked. 

“It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.”

“It does matter! I am going to undo this,” Celaena yelled. 

“The past can't be undone. You think I haven't tried? All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Nothing but death. He comes for us all.” 

As Alexius was talking, Leliana had gotten Felix to his knees. Her knife was at his throat. “Felix!” Alexius yelled in alarm. “Please, please don't hurt my on. I'll do anything,” he pleaded with desperation in his eyes.

“Give us the amulet,” Celaena said. 

“I will, I will give anything you want.” 

“I want the world back,” Leliana said, cold anger in her eyes. She slit Felix's throat, spilling his blood on the ground. 

“No!” He yelled in anger, flinging spells at Leliana. Celaena jumped to action, drawing her daggers and pursing him. Solas put a barrier around her as she flung herself into battle without abandon. Dorian cast elemental spells at him, fire and ice bringing destruction to him. 

“It is too late. He's coming!” Alexius said as Celaena closed in on him with her daggers. She shoved one into his heart, a quick merciless death. The castle rumbled around them as the Elder One approached. She took the amulet from around his lifeless neck, and tossed it to Dorian. 

“We don't have much time,” Celaena said. 

“I'm going to need some time to get this to work,” Dorian said. A tinge of fear had crept into his usually over-confident voice. 

“I will give you as much time as I have arrows,” Leliana said. 

“I don't want you to die for me. You've been through enough,” she protested. 

“We are already dead. You're our only hope, Lavellan,” Solas commented. Though Celaena was reluctant to let them, Cassandra, Leliana, and Solas left the throne room to fend off the horde for as long as possible. Dorian worked with the amulet frantically, the sounds of battle echoing outside. The doors began to bow, and Celaena began to worry that they had run out of time. The door began to splinter as the amulet activated, and the time rift opened. Without looking back, Celaena grabbed Dorian and jumped through. 

They jumped in the future, but landed in the present. It worked.


	11. Responsibilities

After they returned to the future, King Alistair kicked the mages out of Redcliffe. Celaena offered a place for the rebel mages to stay, as equals. Cassandra disapproved, but she didn't care. She did what was right. They returned to Haven, and Celaena was greeted by a stack of paperwork. She sat perched in a tree, chewing her lip as she finished up her report for Leliana. She let out an audible noise of frustration as she got fed up with it. She crumpled up the paper in a ball and threw it as far as she could. From her little space in the tree she could see it bounce right off the top of Solas's bald head. She smiled sheepishly as he looked at her. She clambered down from her spot in the tree and went over to him. 

“Ma serannas,” she said. 

“It is fine. I yet live,” he said with a slight smile back.

“I actually have been wanting to speak with you. I wanted to thank you.” 

Solas looked a bit surprised at that. “For what?” 

“I know you do not remember, but I wanted to thank you for what you did in the future,” a wry smile touched her lips as she wondered if that sentence was ever before spoken. 

“And what was that?” 

“You sacrificed yourself for me,” she said, growing somber at the memory. 

“You were the key to our salvation. Of course I did.” 

“It was still a hard thing to do I'm sure. One does not fling themselves into certain death lightly.” 

“You have done that often enough, and I suspect you will do it more in the future.” 

“Only because I know you'll be there watching my ass,” she teased, and then reddened at the double meaning. 

“Indeed,” he replied, cocking an eyebrow. She giggled nervously in response. She internally chastised herself for giggling. Giggling? Really? Celaena Lavellan doesn't giggle like a love-stricken child. 

“I will speak to you later, I have yet another delightful meeting scheduled. I believe we are to seal the breach soon,” she said with a smile. Once it was sealed, her primary use would be over. She could go back to her people, to her little sister. She had sent a letter letting them know of her whereabouts, and of the fate of Luca. But she longed to be reunited with them. 

“Will you be parting with the Inquisition after the breach is sealed?” she asked. 

“Perhaps. I had planned on it before, but I imagine that the person who opened the breach will not be very happy about you unraveling all of his work. Retribution is to be had, and if needed, I will be here to stop him. I believe you will be forced to defeat this person. You are but an innocent bystander in this event, but you have a great power bestowed upon you. And like it or not, a great deal of responsibility has fallen on your shoulders with it.” 

Celaena saw the truth in his words, and was saddened that her work may not be almost complete as she had hoped. “I will rise to what is needed of me. I miss my clan, and my sister. But I will not let that future happen.” 

Solas seemed impressed by her response. “I will let you get to your meeting now, Lavellan.” She parted ways with the alluring apostate and ran to the Chantry. She preferred running, it was faster and more exciting. Walking gave you too much time for your mind to wonder to unpleasant things, running helped clear it. She arrived to see that the meeting was already in full swing. Cassandra, Cullen, Leliana, Josephine, and Fiona were gathered around it, talking animatedly. 

“Sorry I'm late,” she said, drawing their attention to her. 

“It is no problem, Herald. We have the mage power we need, we can move on the breach whenever you are ready.” 

The room was buzzing with unspoken excitement. Once the Inquisition had completed one if its tasks, it would be taken more seriously. It could be a real deciding force in Thedas. 

“The mages are prepared?” she asked Fiona. 

“They will do as you ask. We are thankful for your hospitality. You could have very easily taken advantage of our precarious position in Redcliffe, but you extended only generosity. We are ready to help.” 

“I am glad to hear that. I believe that Solas and Dorian should come as well, they can help.” she added. 

“They are free to join us,” Cassandra said. A smile began to grow on her lips as her excitement grew. 

“Let's do this, then.”


	12. The Breach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double upload tonight because I was feeling extra motivated! I really enjoyed writing this chapter.

Celaena, Solas, Dorian, and Cassandra set off for the breach with about a hundred mages in tow. She felt powerful as she led this group of people to close the breach. The ripped sky loomed overhead, a constant reminder of their purpose as they neared it. The path to the breach was much calmer this time, for there wasn't demons to constantly battle. 

She felt a little out of place, being one of the only non mage in the area, but she was the one with the mark. She was the one with the power to heal the sky's wound. They arrived at their final destination. She hopped the railing and positioned herself right under the breach, and looked to the swirling green clouds above. Creators, she hoped she was strong enough to do this. The mages lined themselves up along the railing. A reverent quiet fell on the area. She didn't really know what to say, she didn't know what to tell these mages as they awaited her signal. She turned to Solas with a silent question in her eyes. He understood her silent plead and turned to face the bulk of the mages. 

“Mages! Funnel your power through her. She is your staff, she directs your magic! Do not hold back.” 

Celaena hesitantly lifted her mark towards the sky, and willed the breach to shut. She felt the anchor do her bidding as it latched on to the sky's wound. The power of all the mages surged into her. It was exhilarating. She understood why the Elder One coveted godhood, because in that moment she was a goddess. Untouchable, immortal. And it was terrifyingly blissful. The power burned her, it felt as if she was melting but she didn't care. She fell to her knees as she lifted the anchor higher, worshiping the power that flooded her veins. Panic set in as the magic flooding through her began to lessen, and the breach was not yet closed. Her exertion was beginning to wear on her. Blackness clouded her vision as she neared passing out. 

Solas clasped a hand onto her shoulder, and power strong and old and ancient flooded through her. Almost immediately the breach imploded on itself, a loud noise erupted from it as it closed shut. The noise rang in her ears as she shakily got to her feet. She was weak, and her knees gave out. She stumbled forward, but Solas caught her in his ready arms. 

“What. . . was that?” She choked out, slightly delirious. That power she felt was different from the others, and stronger too. He avoided her questioning gaze and procured a lyrium potion from his backpack.

“Drink this,” he said handing it to her.

“But. . . I'm not a mage?” 

“It will help,” he advised. She brought the flask to her lips and tilted it, letting its contents run into her mouth. It tasted odd and brassy, but he was right. She felt better after drinking it. Solas's odd power all but forgotten, she smiled as she saw all of the mages rejoicing which each other. 

“We did it,” she said more to herself to anyone else.

“You did it, Herald.” Cassandra said, giving a rare grin. Celaena laughed as she saw how the people celebrated and shouted, some of them chorusing with her name. She led them back to Haven, and when she arrived back she was embraced with even more rejoicing. She felt a trickle of power, reminiscent of when she closed the breach. She realized that it was coming from the people's praise. Their joyous praises were power. She would usually turn them away, but for a split second she allowed herself to believe that she was sent here by divine intervention. She had succeeded, and in that moment she had no worries, and she was happy.


	13. In Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very exciting to write, and I am happy that I get to put out a big update for once. Make sure to leave comments/constructive criticism!

Several hours passed since she closed the breach. She was sitting on a ledge, her feet dangling over the edge as she sipped wine straight from the bottle. The people were merry as they danced around fires and sang songs of triumph. That was when it begun. Her elven ears twitched as she heard a sound in the distance. Marching. Thousands of feet clad in armor walking in synch. She did not know what came, but it must be a bad omen. She instantly sobered up at the noise. The warning bells began to sound, and the people looked up in confusion. That confusion, quickly turned to panic. 

“Forces approaching. To arms!” Cullen yelled, unsheathing his sword. 

“We must get to the gates!” instructed Cassandra. Cassandra and Celaena ran there together, Solas and Dorian fell into step beside them. 

“Celebratory drinks are paused then?” Dorian quipped. 

“If we make it through whatever is about to happen, I cordially invite you to get hammered with me Dorian,” Celaena said. A feeling of dread was welling up inside her chest, and she joked in a desperate attempt to dispel the tension. 

“I will gladly take you up on your offer,” he responded. They made it to the gates. They vibrated with the force that was approaching it. 

“What banner do they march under?” Josephine asked, who was already near the gates. 

“None,” Cullen responded. 

“Fenedhis,” Celaena breathed. Someone pushed at the gate. 

“I can't come in unless you open!” A voice pleaded. She opened the doors to find a young man standing amongst a sea of dead enemies. His daggers were bloodied with their blood. He wore a large floppy hat, and his long blond hair stuck to his face haphazardly. He looked to be around three years younger than her, the same that she was with Luca. “I came to warn you. People are coming to hurt you! You probably already know.” 

“What is this? What is going on?” Celaena demanded. 

“The templars come to kill you.” 

“Templars?” Cullen said, approaching them aggressively. The boy flinched and took a step back from him like a scared rabbit. “Is this the order's response to our talks with the mages?” 

“The red templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his mages. There,” the young man said, pointing to something in the distance. Celaena followed his pointing and saw it. The Elder One. It appeared to be a man twisted with darkspawn, with red lyrium jutting from his face and body. Like a nightmare of the fade walking in the real world. 

“He is very angry,” the young man warned. 

“Cullen, give me a plan. Anything!” 

“Haven is not suited against an attack of this force. If we hope to withstand it, we must control the battle. Hit the bulk of the force with the trebuchets. Don't hold back,” he instructed Celaena. He turned to the rest of the people that gathered. “Mages, you have sanction to attack the force. That is Samson, he will not make it easy. Inquisition, with the Herald! Do it for our lives, for all of us!” he commanded, thrusting his sword in the air. With the force rallied they yelled in agreement, and they looked ready to fight. Celaena was in awe in Cullen's ability to have everyone fighting ready with only a few words. 

“Are you with me?” she asked, turning to Cassadra, Solas, and Dorian.

“Yes, Herald,” Cassandra said, her grip tightening around the grip of her sword. 

“I will help you defeat the Elder One,” Solas said, his eyes meeting hers. 

“If I have to I suppose,” Dorian answered. 

“Then lets go.”

They made their way towards the trebuchet, occasionally having to stop to fend off some red templars from their people. They were coming over the wall and attacking everywhere. Panic set in, urging her to run faster towards her destination. These people believed in her, and she would not let them die. Inquisition people were already positioned at the trebuchet, frantically defending it from enemies.

“Help them,” she ordered while sneaking through the group. Dorian put a protective barrier around her as he waded through the battle. She went to the wheel and began to man the trebuchet, it was much harder to turn than expected. She pulled down on it with all her weight as she painstakingly aimed it. She pulled the release, and watched as the boulder flung from its grasp and went crashing into the mountain. 

The mountain rumbled as the rock slide began, snow billowed as it was jostled from its resting place. Snow and rocks crashed down onto the enemy force, burying a chunk of them in the snow. A whoop of triumph could be heard from the Inquisition and the mages as hope began to grow in them again. That was when a spine shuddering shriek echoed from the skies. A dragon—an archdemon—something, soared through the air in all of its awful glory. A rain of fire bellowed from its open maw and set one of the other trebuchets aflame. 

“To the gates!” she instructed as she backtracked with her group in tow. She could hear the dragon overhead, could feel the stirred wind against her face as it flapped its strong wings. They entered the gates and Cullen closed the gates behind them. She was painfully aware of how little protection these walls would offer from that dragon. 

“We must get everyone to the Chantry. It is the only building that might hold against that. . . that beast,” Cullen said fiercly, “at this point. . . just make them work for it.” 

“So our plan is to give up?” 

“I don't know—look we can discuss it more in the Chantry. For now let us get to safety!” Celaena was not ready to roll over and die, but Cullen was right. No use in devising a plan here if at any moment they could be cooked alive by dragon's breath. They fought their way back to the Chantry, Celaena desperately attempted to save any people of Haven she could. She saw too many innocent lives be taken before her eyes, just moments too late to save them. 

“We have to go,” Solas quietly urged, grabbing her bicep to stop her from running into battle again. 

“I need to save them!” she protested, as a woman's screams rang in her ears. 

“You can not save them if you yourself are dead.” She reluctantly allowed herself to be led into the safety of the Chantry. Not far behind them, the mysterious young man came in with Chancellor Roderick clutching onto him for support. 

“He attempted to stop a templar. The blade went deep. He is going to die.” He eased the Chancellor to the ground. 

“What a charming boy,” The Chancellor choked out. 

“Herald. Our position isn't good. That dragon has taken back any time you bought for us. Their army is going to murder everyone in Haven!” Cullen said.

“The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants you,” the young man added, addressing Celaena. 

“If he wants me, he can have me. As long as it will help these people.” 

“It won't. He wants to kill you, no one else matters but he will crush them and kill them anyway. I don't like him.” 

“Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets and cause one last slide.” 

“At this point to hit the enemy we would bury Haven,” she responded. 

“We're dying, but we can decide how. Many don't get that choice.” This statement didn't make Celaena feel any better. Dying with dignity was a nice thought, but living was even better. 

“Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies,” the blond boy announced. 

“There is a path, you wouldn't know it unless you have made the summer pilgrimage. The people can escape. Andraste must have shown me it. Andraste must have shown me it so I can lead the people from here.” 

“Cullen, can you get them out of here?” Celaena asked. 

“I believe that I can. Inquisition—follow Roderick out of here,” Cullen instructed. He then pointed at a small group of soldiers. “You go load the trebuchets.” He finally faced Celaena, “You need to be noticed. Get his attention. We need all eyes on you so that the rest might escape. But what of you? How will you escape?” 

Celaena saw how the hope of her survival left his eyes when she didn't answer. “Mala suledin nadas halam-shivanas,” she replied. She said it to comfort herself. She was doing what she was meant to do. You must endure the sweet sacrifice of duty. Solas caught her eye, but did not comment. He understood. She left the Chantry to face her fate. 

“We need to be noticed, do we? My specialty.” Dorian said as they hurried toward the trebuchet. It was surrounded by many red templars. Celaena cussed under her breath as she drew her blades. They cut down the enemy force surrounding the trebuchet significantly, and she took this opportunity to begin aiming it towards the mountains. 

“Reinforcements!” Cassandra called in warning. More red templars came running up to them and she abandoned the aiming to aid her friends in dispatching them. This process repeated a few times, each onslaught of enemies weakening them further. But she was close, so close to aiming it just right. Just as she aimed it and clicked it into place, a shriek came piercing from the sky. The dragon was coming. 

“Move, now!” she yelled. Her friends fled the scene, and she attempted to run after them. A fire ball rained down from the heavens and fell right behind her, the crash making her fall to the ground. She rolled to her back and sat up, and the Elder One walked through the flame to face her. He approached her with slow confident steps. Every sense in her body was telling her to turn and flee, but she must face him if the people were to live. She stomached her fear, even as the dragon swooped down and landed beside her. She flinched as the dragon roared mere inches from her face. The heat emanating from its mouth scorched her skin, but she did not flee. 

“Pretender, you toy with forces beyond your kin. No more,” The Elder One said, his voice deep and grating. 

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded as the reflection of flames danced in her eyes. 

“Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are, what I was. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the will that is Corypheus. You will yield,” he growled, pointing a long unnatural finger at her. 

Her hands clenched into fists as she tried to stop herself from attacking him. She knew no greater anger than what she harbored in that moment. 

“I will not!” she yelled with conviction so great it reverberated through her bones. 

“You will resist. . . you always resist. It matters not.” The Elder One—Corypheus held up an orb inlaid with ornate design. It looked infected with red lyrium. It sang to her, putting her in a trance. The whispers that licked at her mind were twisted, wrong. “I am here for the anchor.” Coryphus thrust out his palm at Celaena, breaking the orb's hold on her. Her mark activated, and he drew it towards him. It burned, but it did not feel like it was coming off of her. It was a part of her. 

“You interrupted a ritual years in planning. Instead of dying, you stole its purpose. What marks you, what you fling at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens. And you used the anchor to undo my work. The gall.” 

“So what is this thing meant to do?” Corypheus came to her and picked her up by her wrist, dangling her so that their eyes were level. 

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it. I once breached the fade in the name of another. To serve the gods of the old empire. I found chaos, corruption, dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused, no more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and to correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.” He flung her from him, and she crashed into the trebuchet. She fell to the ground, wounded but intact. 

“The anchor is permanent. You spoilt it with your stumbling,” he grumbled. Celaena got to her feet to face Corypheus, grabbing a stray sword as she did. She was hyper aware of how close he had put her to her mark.

“Fear not. I will start anew, I will find another way to give this wold the nation and god it requires.” 

“Yes, because I was so scared you would fail,” she bit off sarcastically. She heard the other trebuchet unload, flinging its contents to the mountain. It was her turn. 

“I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die,” he announced. 

“I may die. But I will take as many of your people with me as I can,” she said. He looked to her in confusion, but she did not give him the time to figure out what she meant. She kicked the release, and the trebuchet fired. The mountain rumbled on impact and the avalanche stirred. Celaena sprinted away, not looking back. She ran as fast as she could, the snow nipping at her ankles as the onslaught of snow caught up to her. She jumped in one last desperate attempt to break free. She fell further than expected, hitting the ground with great force. She lost all consciousness as a thin layer of snow blanketed her, but she faded knowing that the people were alive.


	14. Shall Burn

Celaena's eyelids fluttered as she came back to consciousness. For a moment she could not tell if she was alive or dead. Her entire body was numb, and she could feel nothing. It was almost peaceful, laying there under the blanket of snow. She could just resign to unconciousness, to be forever lost to the numb white. Images of fire raining down on Haven flickered through her mind. Images of innocent people being powerless under archdemon fire as their skin burnt and their cries for help died in vain. She couldn't retire to death. Not yet. 

Through sheer will she got her stiff limbs and numb body to move and break her from her snowy coffin. She trudged forward through the cold, her only objective to live. She had no idea where she was, all that she gathered was that she was underground somewhere. In an open cavern before her she could see the tell-tale signs of a rift. Sickly green light emananated from it, and her mark buzzed in response to the nearby energy. Dread welled up in her stomach. Celaena had no idea if she would be able to fend off the demons, so weak that she was. A quick scan of the area, however, told her that it was the only way out. So forward she walked. 

She entered the cavern. The rift loomed above. It spat out its green tendrils to the ground, and where they struck demons spawned from the earth. They were only wisps, for the first wave at least. She drew her blades and fought with every ounce of energy she had. Cries of pain emitted from her lips as she moved. The cold burned in her limbs. Her clan had called it frostsick. When the cold overtook some part of you. It would turn it black, usually a foot or a hand. Without immediate warming or healing, it had to be removed. She fought through the pain and took the wisps with her. 

The second wave came, this time more wisps and two rage demons. She fought them off, but her strength was failing. In one last desperate attempt, she flung out her hand at the rift—begging it to close. The rift bent to the anchor's will, and tendrils of it seized onto the remaining demons. Their bodies dissolved into the rift just as they had appeared. She almost fell into her knees in relief as she sealed it, but she didn't allow herself to. If she did, she was afraid she would never get up again. 

She continued forward and soon she had made it above ground. There was a fire lit in the distance, and she made her way toward it. She fought against the wind and snow. Every step took all of her willpower to take, but slowly she progressed.   
\----------------  
Solas slipped away unnoticed from camp. With staff in hand and belongings packed, he aimed to leave the Inquisition behind. The loss of everything weighed heavily on his heart, and he couldn't stay any longer. Looking at the crestfallen faces around him, all hope lost. . . it was all too familiar. He got attatched, and the loss of her burned in him more than he would have expected. It was stupid of him. His human heart hurt at the loss of her. It was too much. When he was a safe distance away, he relinquished himself to his other form and changed into a wolf. Dark as night against the stark white of the snow. 

His primal instincts took over, and thankfully most thoughts subsided. He was in survival mode now. On four legs he ran through the snow, bits of it clinging to the fur as he went. He came to a skidding halt when he caught a scent. Her scent. His head snapped in the direction, following the scent. With his enhanced eyesight he saw her. Struggling against the wind and snow, against all odds, alive. The decision was made before he could even comprehend it. He loped back to the camp, returning before they knew he was gone, and he awaited her return.   
\-------------  
There was a pass between to mountains, and within she saw the flicker of firelight. They must be there. She had to get there. It was so cold. She could see her own frosted eyelashes. Solas came out of the cavern. She had found them. Her willpower gave out as he closed the space between them. She collapsed into Solas's outstretched arms. He picked her up easily, one hand under her knees and the other under her shoulders. 

“She's alive!” He called out. She let herself drift into unconsciousness, while cradled in his arms.


	15. The Dawn will Come

She awoke to the sound of vehement bickering. She peeled her eyes open and turned over restlessly. Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra were huddled together. Blame being shot at each other like throwing daggers out. She had to stop them. Celaena propped herself up on her elbows and began to get up. 

“You need to rest, child.” Mother Giselle chastised. 

“Someone needs to intervene.” 

“Another opinionated person thrown into the middle will not help. Even if it is you. They struggle because of what they saw. They saw their defender sacrifice herself for them, and yet she returns.”

“The answer is simple. I escaped the avalanche. Now we must regroup in order to stop that monster.” Celaena said, fists clenched tight. Images of death remained burned into the back of her eyelids. The danger felt very real and very imminent. 

“The more our enemy seems to outrank us, the more our trials appear ordained. That is hard to accept, no? That we may be called upon by the Maker himself to endure these trials.”

“I do not share your faith, Mother Giselle. I am not here by your Maker's divine intervention,” she said with convention, but gently as to not offend. 

“And yet the living do not walk out of the fade unharmed. Is it such a stretch to believe this? The people know what they saw, they know what they believe. What they need to believe.” 

“I don't see how my beliefs matter. Corypheus stands against us. He is the immediate threat. I need to focus on him, and I need to focus on protecting the people that we have left,” she said, her eyes scanning the camp around them. The numbers had dwindled significantly. Though she still longed to return to Clan Lavellan, and to her sister, she must finish what she had begun. She got up from the cot and moved away from Mother Giselle. The arguing had died down. Somber faces and dejected countenances could be seen all over. Despite the solemn atmosphere, Mother Giselle began to sing. 

Her gravelly voice carried through the stillness of the camp, and echoed off of the cavern walls. 

“Shadows fall and hope has fled. Steel your heart, the dawn will come.” The soothing melody filled up the area, everyone looked up at them. 

“The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon the dawn will come.” In her pause, the place was filled with the song of hope. She could feel it filling the hearts of the people, it seemed to pour life into the people of the Inquisition.

“The shepherd's lost, and his home is far. Keep to the stars, the dawn will come.” More voices picked up the song. Celaena was surprised to find that everyone unequivocally knew the melody and the words. 

“The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon the dawn will come.” The people came forward, kneeling before her. As their song continued she felt it buzzing in the anchor. It hummed with energy as their singing grew louder. 

“Bare your blade and raise it high. Stand your ground, the dawn will come.” Celaena scanned the crowd of faces before her. She felt unworthy of this praise. Her eyes caught Solas's. He was standing away from the crowd, both his hands placed atop of his staff. He gave her a smile, his eyes shining with a mixture of emotion Celaena could not place. 

“The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon the dawn will come.” The song ended, the last note reverberating through the cavern. She thumbed her mark absentmindedly, she felt its warmth subsiding. It always felt warm when in use. She did not know why their praise had activated it. She felt stronger, rejuvenated. The unbearable cold all but forgotten. 

“The army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause,” Mother Giselle said. She walked to aid the wounded then, leaving Celaena to her own thoughts. She collapsed onto the cot, staring up at the little sliver of sky that showed above. The stars were very bright. She traced the constellations that Luca had shown her with her eyes. 

“A word?” Solas asked, breaking her daydream. She jumped slightly. She followed Solas through the camp and into the fresh snow. He stopped by a torch, and with a wave of a hand it lit with fire. 

“The humans have not held one of our own so highly in the ages beyond counting. Their faith is hard won, Lethallin. Worthy of pride, save one detail. The orb Corypheus carried, it is elven. He used the orb to open the breach. To unlock it uses great power. I do not know how he survived it. We must prepare for their reaction when they learn that the orb is of our people.” 

“How do you know all this?” Celaena asked. 

Solas opened his mouth to answer, but Celaena cut him off. “Wait, let me guess. The fade.” 

A thin smile came to his lips, “Yes. Such thing were foci. Dedicated to our gods. Some were dedicated to a specific member of our pantheon. How ever Corypheus found it, the orb is elven and that might shatter some human faith.” 

“They seem to trust me a great deal. But I will tread carefully, I know how easily shems can mess things up.” Her mood darkened as she remembered the bad encounters she has had with them in the past. 

“To fight against Corypheus, however, you are going to need every advantage. I know of a place—long forgotten. It is easily defensible and will be a place where the Inquisition can rebuild. Scout to the north, show them the way.” 

“I will, thank you Solas. Before we leave—I have a question. Earlier, when the people were singing I felt something. I felt...power. Through my anchor,” she explained, presenting her mark to him. He took her hand in his, and he traced it with his fingers. The sensation sent an involuntary shiver up her spine, which she played off as being cold. His brow forrowed as he studied the mark. She felt his mana gently brushing the anchor. 

“I am sure it was nothing. We should get back to camp,” he said with clipped words. He returned her hand to her and walked back. She followed suit, but felt confused at his answer. Because she could have sworn that as he studied her mark, he looked afraid.


	16. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is mentions of blood and gore.

The long walk to Skyhold reminded Celaena of her walk out of the ruins of Haven. The difference is that the people were following her this time. The cold was invigorating, and not crippling. Though she wished the pinkness of her nose and ears would go away.

 

Solas had been her right hand during the journey. Softly giving directions in the elvhen tongue. He said that the place had once been of their people, and that it had been forgotten over the years. Despite Celaena's constant prodding, he refused to tell more. Instead he gave evasive answers; which usually included something about the fade.

 

Though hope filled the people of the Inquisition, the walk was a solemn pilgrimage. There was lots of time for inward reflection and planning for the days to come. It made Celaena restless. She wanted action, and she yearned for more lighthearted days. They seemed very far away. Her calves burned as she climbed the upward slope.

 

“How much further?” She asked breathlessly.

 

“Patience, Da'len. We're close.” Solas replied.

 

“I've had enough patience,” she grumbled. “I'm bored and my calves are burning.”

 

“You complain a lot for someone who just had a near death experience.”

 

“I think I complain too little, considering the circumstances. Someone carry me,” she said dramatically, pretending to swoon. When she saw Dorian nearby, she grinned. Solas looked amused as Celaena stalked her prey. She leapt onto Dorian's back unnanounced. She hoisted herself up and clung to him.

 

“Fasta Vaas! Herald?” He sputtered. He grabbed a hold of her legs that were wrapped around his torso. She had successfully hijacked a piggy-back ride.

 

“The Inquisition needs you and your glorious mustache to thwart what very well may develop into a cramp in your savior’s calf.”

 

“If you insist.” Much to her delight, Dorian carried her up the short distance to the top of the mountain.

 

“Fen'Harel. . .” she whispered as the view unfolded before them. There was a huge expanse of a castle, beautiful white stone, tucked away neatly in the snow capped mountains.

 

“Skyhold.” Solas announced.

 

“Let me down Dorian,” she whispered in awe. When he complied, she stood on the peak of the mountain, and turned to address the people, “We've made it. A place where we can rebuild and become stronger than ever. Remember those that died in order to allow us to reach this point. To allow us to reach Skyhold.” She wasn't sure what spurred her into an impromptu speech, but she knew that they thought of her as a savior sent by divine providence. She may as well live up to their ever expanding expectations.

 

“Come on,” she said, grabbing Solas by the sleeve as she began to run forward. They left everyone behind and made it to the bridge linking a mountain to Skyhold,

 

“This is beautiful,” she breathed. The place was empty and in various stages of deterioration, but its walls spoke of promise. They walked across the bridge and into the courtyard side by side.

 

“If only the Dalish could reclaim a place like this.” She mused.

 

“I'm not sure if they would be ready for such a task.” He added.

 

“ _We_ have always been ready. Misguided as we may be, our only fault is attempting to preserve our culture. What else would you have us do? We've been killed, insulted, taken as slaves. . .” her anger boiled up within her as unpleasant memories flashed vividly in her min. She sucked in a quivering breath but it was too late. The tide flushed over her, and she was drowning.

 

_She is holding little toddler Aridhel_ _to her tightly, hand held against her mouth to stop the sobs._ _They're hidden between bushes and the looming statue of Fen'Harel. Luca is crouched behind her, sword drawn. “Keep each other safe,” her parents had said._ _They are sitting in silent horror as their clan is attacked. Watching as shemlen drag away lovers, children, and friends and stuff them into cages_ _._ _She's t_ _asting salty tears as her father threw himself in_ _between her mother and a shem_ _, getting impaled by a blade meant only to prod her mother into submission._ _She's p_ _aralyzed by fear as her mothe_ _r attacked the man through her cries of sorrow._

 

_“Crazy bitch!” He yell_ _s_ _as he presse_ _s_ _the blade into her stomach, the blade already_ _stained red_ _._ _She's r_ _unning, running because he must die. They ALL must die._ _She pick_ _s_ _up a dagger from her mother's corpse and sh_ _e attacks_ _. Blind rage as she struggl_ _es_ _against the much stronger man._ _She's striking, but not making contact. Untrained and skinny, she can't defeat him_ _._ _She's slammed_ _to the ground, all wind escaping her._ _Struggling to breathe and get him off._

 

_“Fucking knife-ears.” He says, and he spits in her face. A dagger hastily cuts into her forehead and is dragged down across her face and onto her cheek._

 

_“Let's see how well you fight back with only one eye,” He presses deeper, she screams and squeezes her eyes shut. The contact never comes. She hears the sickening thwack of a sword making contact with flesh. She looks to see a sword stuck in the fleshiness of his neck. Blood spurts from him, sprinkling over her body. The swords is drawn back and it strikes him again, and again. She watches with wide eyes as the head falls off the body and topples to the ground, and the lifeless body falls on her._

_Luca crouches beside her, “Da'nen stay here, stay hidden. I'll come back for you.” She's still and silent under the weight of the corpse. Waiting as the slavers leave with their people. Half her clan gone forever. Half her clan and she cowers as her brother and others fight for her._

 

“You couldn't have saved them. It's not your fault.”

 

_She could have learned to fight. She should have learned._

 

“It isn't real, you're here now.”

 

_Luca, dead. Her parents, dead. Is her clan safe? Is Aridhel alive? Or has she abandoned them again._

 

“You helped the hurting by saving Haven. You can still help more.”

 

She felt stone beneath her. She was sitting. Two hands clutched her face. Her eyes opened, and she saw Solas crouching before her with a concerned look on his face. And next to him, the blond boy from Haven. She still felt panicked and anxious. Her heart was racing.

 

“Take deep breaths,” Solas said quietly. She took in a few shaky ones, and everything started to slow down and come into focus.

 

“She is okay.” The young man said to Solas. He nodded at him in return.

 

“Thank you Cole.”

 

“Cole,” Celaena said out loud, mentally tacking the name to the face. Cole disappeared into the shadows and slipped away, leaving only Solas and her.

 

“The people are coming.” He warned. She looked to see that they had reached the bridge and were coming across. Solas stood, and offered her his hands. She grabbed a hold of them and he hoisted her to her feet. She took a deep breath and faced the people. They had lots of work to do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
